So wrong, butnope, still so wrong
by I'm Nova
Summary: Eurus' idea of family love is as twisted as the rest of her plans. Okay, Romance is absolutely the wrong genre for it, but the one that'll give you an idea of what earns the story an M. Also, important WARNINGS, if you have triggers please check inside! (More pairing that what's signalled too, because this website is frustrating).


_Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. A. N. **Warnings for incest and rape.** Also threesome, but if you're okay with the first two you're unlikely to be bothered by the third I think._

So wrong, but…nope, still so wrong

Eurus snorted. She shouldn't need to remind her brothers that she existed, and certainly shouldn't have to go to so much trouble for it. Besides, it should be completely obvious that no one else but the three of them could understand the others. Mycroft at least realised that, and was impervious to anyone's flirting, which gained him his nickname. Sherlock though…Sherlock always insisted on trying to connect with people. She had to bring him to heel. She'd really hoped that he would kill his new 'friend', but even though that plan failed, she had earned some private time with him.

Summoning both her brothers was, finally, easy. Sure, they were wary of meeting each other unexpectedly at Sherrinford. And yes, they still took an instinctive step back noticing that, once again, there was no glass between them. Which was, frankly, insulting, as it was a long time since she hurt either of them. Would they never forgive her? Besides, it's not like measly glass ever meant anything. But Eurus had faith. They'd get past all that.

She didn't speak yet. Instead, she put her hands forward in a placating gesture, as if dealing with spooked colts, and then beckoned them with a finger. Lockie was the first to obey – he was always so delightfully easy to play with – and Big Brother hurried after him, as usual.

"You don't mind, do you?" she purred, letting that ugly white tunic she was assigned slip off her thin body. "Or would you prefer I don a blonde wig again?"

Sherlock shrugged, and she refrained from giggling at the reversal of their regular attitude. As for Mycroft, he was simply staring, doing his best not to show his reactuions. Especially when it was obvious that was the only thing she was wearing.

"You two were supposed to teach me love," Eurus said, opening her arms wide, hips oscillating slightly.

Mycroft finally found words, if somewhat strangled. "Not _that_ kind."

"Maybe not, but you got rid of Jim before I could have a proper night with him, no screens between us. So you either pop out of your hat another genius, criminal or not, that won't make me want to scrub myself raw for letting what's basically a fleshy sex toy with a person sadly attached touch me, necessary to the plan or not, or _you_ show me what's so great about love. It's supposed to be about connection, isn't it? I want one. I _deserve_ one. _You. Owe. Me._ " She almost chanted the last sentence.

Sherlock shuddered. Mycroft sighed regretfully, "Five minutes too long."

"Oh, come on. I won't bite. Unless you ask, that is. Either of you will do, really. But preferably both. It's way past time you finally _played_ with me." She didn't think it was whiny. Not like back then. Surely, they'd finally agree?

Still, no one moved. No one, apparently, breathed. She looked up at them from behind lowered eyelashes. "Or, I suppose I could go looking. World population is above 7 billion. Statistically speaking, there should be one or two people out there that aren't intolerable. True, it would take me some time…but who knows, maybe I could have children with them. I've never been around babies. I'm sure that would open the doors for a whole slew of new experiments I've never had a chance to try."

Weirdly, that got Mycroft to comply. He started slowly and deliberately undoing his jacket's buttons. Whether it was unwillingness to lose the resource she represented, or protectiveness of her as of yet unconceived children, even she wasn't sure. Her eldest brother could display an odd amount of possessiveness towards anyone sharing his blood… and then people sneered at _her._

Finally, Sherlock found his words."If you want to be taught, start with this…the connection you seek doesn't need to start from the brain. Look at mum. Look at… _me_. it's your heart you need to involve."

She giggled, this time. "Well, everyone agrees I don't have one, don't they? So I'll have to go for the next best thing. Mimi here's finally willing. What about you, Lockie? Are you in or out? I won't blame you if you pass. And I won't certainly mind if you stick to…" She never finished that sentence, but pirouetted instead, offering her back. "Just close your eyes and think of England. Or…Queen and country?" She giggled again.

Mycroft was still taking his sweet time undressing – then again, he'd never rushed into anything in their lives – when she was surprised by a kiss between her shoulder blades. She'd have bet that Sherlock would bow out, especially after her teasing. He knew it was teasing and not a threat, didn't he? The boy could be so daft. She inhaled loudly. Damn. She was supposed to be in control here.

"No," Mycroft said, smugly. "You're supposed to trust us not to hurt you – relinquish the reins and enjoy yourself. That's part of the difference between whatever manipulative…relationship you had and love. You can think ahead, but you don't have to. Especially if handcuffs and the like don't enter into it." Points to him for deducing her mind…even if he could always be so annoying.

She decided to be truthful. "I'm not sure I can."

There was a rustle of clothes behind her back. She would have bet all her chances of future entertainment that Sherlock was naked now. It was always a problem keeping him clothed in the first place. A violinist's hand smoothed her flank. "It's us, Yuyu." His voice…he… _pitied…_ her? How dare he! Another kiss right under her right ear made her shudder and lose the thread of her fury.

Mycroft was finally naked, his clothes folded to his satisfaction, and he was ready to join the fun. Well, not _ready_. And judging by how close Sherlock was, and what she felt – or better said, didn't – he wasn't either. "In case you were all too distracted to notice, on the table there," she nodded towards it, "you have condoms, lube and viagra. Not saying that this isn't all very nice, but I was led to believe that love went a bit farther."

A pointed look, and Mycroft was distracting her by kissing – full on her lips, slow and languorous, while his little brother scuttled to take his own medicine, and bring back Mycroft's share of supplies. Typical of their elder brotrher, not bothering with even five steps.

She was still thinking too much…or was this part of their _connection_? From there, she lost track. Under a double attack, though, she did have some excuse. Whether she'd just talked them into it, like everyone else ever, (disappointing, really), or if they were finally seeing her point didn't really matter. What mattered were gentle hands, full lips and questing tongues – and all of them, even while they acted in instinctive coordination, had a heart of kindness that made her shiver more than when they bit that spot just above her rump.

It wasn't long before she was undulating, eyes closed, hands grasping at whatever she could hold to anchor herself. A shoulder, a nipple – hand sliding over a pec. She accidentally twisted, earning a strangled whimper – that was unexpected, too. They were moving in near complete quiet, panting breaths and gasps the only sounds in the room.

That awakened her cruel streak, afraid that this was just another dream, a perfectly recreated mind room - nails biting into flesh, teeth coming into play much more than tongue – until she couldn't, Sherlock restraining her, soft but unyielding.

"Yuyu. Stop. You asked for love," he warned.

"And we're _ready_." There was a bitterness in Mycroft's voice still, but not hatred. That was a step in the right direction, she supposed. And then, absurdly, primly, as if they were having tea, her eldest brother asked, "May I?"

She couldn't help it. She replied, "You may, sir knight," and opened her legs more to better welcome him. Sherlock snickered into her hair, and then gasped in surprise as his new erection dragged between her cheeks. "You can love me too, but patience, chéri," she gritted out, when one of Mycroft's thrusts was especially deep.

Her middle brother had never taken well to being told to wait, though. Which was why he took her warning to mean, "prepare me," rather than, "just wait your turn." Eurus didn't mind. Having him eager to play with her for once was a very welcome change. He still had enough sense to make his questing fingers gentle and accurate – so accurate that the double effect of his fingers and Mycroft's slow, deliberate thrusts made her keen aloud. This was brilliant.

It took Sherlock a while to be satisfied with his task, but finally he held onto her, penetrating her still empty hole. There was no exact counterpoint – Mycroft still building by degrees to a peak that was just out of reach, while Sherlock had apparently entered a race. Still, every few times, their thrusts synchronised, hammering her together. Two pairs of lips continued to peck and lick and nibble at her, hands guiding her, supporting her. It was a dance she was learning the steps of by sheer instinct. This time – for the first time in her life – she didn't complain when her brain stopped calculating.

It didn't take her long to peak, and Sherlock followed an instant later. She sagged against Mycroft, her legs trapping him to stop her eldest brother from getting away before he, too, finished. She didn't need any noble sacrifices from him. In the end, they both carried her to her white, white bed…and she passed out even before hitting the pillow.

She fully expected them to be long gone by the time she woke up, but – to her great surprise – she actually opened her eyes to Sherlock nuzzling her, and a couple of minutes later Mycroft arrived with a veritable triumph of a breakfast on a tray. "Why are you still here?" she mumbled, half-asleep.

"You wanted to be loved. We went along with your ideas, even if neither of us agreed. You don't get to complain about us insisting on a proper morning after. It's not likely you got any, no matter how much sex you managed to have for one end or another. And maybe we could have more…mornings, without the nights, that is. Mimi can make a mean omelette. Have a taste," Sherlock said against her shoulder.

She gave in. Why wouldn't she? "Mmm…how did they let you become the eminence grise when you were destined to hoard Michelin stars? It's a sin!" she quipped after a bite.

"Well, there aren't enough stars for that," the sleuth remarked matter-of-factly. For once, Mycroft was blushing.

"Makes sense," she agreed, with another near-obscene moan at the flavours hitting her palate. "You'll have to come here more often than every other international emergency, Mimi, you know. And you'll have to step up your game, Lockie. Concerts aren't going to be enough to make you my favourite anymore."

"I'll see what I can do," the detective promised.

"If we make you happier on a regular basis, would you agree to less…you know…touching?" Mycroft allowed himself a little shudder.

"I'll see what I can do, my boys." And she winked.


End file.
